Thirsty Thursday

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It was Thursday night, and Paul sat alone in his dorm room. Can of coke on the stand next to his bed, biography of Otto von Bismarck in his hands, and a pencil between his teeth. Thursday night, and he was alone in his room. Thursday night. Thirsty Thursday. The start of a college weekend. And he was alone, in his room, with a book and a pencil and a can of coke. There is something seriously wrong with this picture.

Now, it's not that Paul was anti-social, or he didn't have any friends, or he doesn't like to party. He wasn't, he did, and he does. And it wasn't like there was nowhere to go. There is always somewhere to go on a Thursday night at a big state university campus. Hell, there's always somewhere to go on a Tuesday night. This week particularly, being Rush Week for the campus fraternities, was jam-packed with parties. There were pretty much three to six parties every night of the week to choose from. Each complete with the college male's essentials. Booze, babes, and, well, more booze and more babes. So if he had wanted to, Paul could very easily have found himself a party, just like his roommate, his friends, and virtually everyone on his floor.

But Paul's problem was simple and inescapable. The book, the biography of Bismarck, was for a class on European history. It had barely been two weeks, and already Paul was behind. He needed to have the book read, completely, in its 378 page entirety, by the following Tuesday. And Paul knew enough to know he wasn't going to get a single bit of work done Friday, Saturday, and most likely Sunday, too. That left him Thursday and Monday. And when Thursday night's reading began, Paul was on page 32.

So there Paul was, stuck in his room, on a Thursday night, with a book, a pencil, and a can of coke. The book was, to put it mildly, boring. To put it accurately, it was painfully, agonizingly, gut-wrenchingly boring. Even completely devoid of distractions, Paul wasn't making very good progress. He had soldiered his way through 45 pages by the time the coke ran out.

As a good a time as any to take a break, he thought to himself. After all, he'd been at it for more than an hour and a half straight. Time to grab another coke. He fished through his pockets for loose change, came up with the required sixty cents, and headed out of the room and down the hall. A flight of stairs and one vending machine later, Paul had his coke. However, he was by no means inclined to return to work.

I wonder if anyone's still around, he thought. He realized then that he'd found the distraction he needed, and began to wander the halls looking for people still in the dorm. To his complete lack of surprise, there was virtually nobody left. Some people on the first floor had come back earlier, others were leaving late, and some, like him, were stuck doing homework. He stopped and chatted for a bit with some, asked how their nights had been so far, how they liked their classes, etc. Anything to keep from returning to that awful book.

Paul wandered aimlessly until he ended up back on his own floor. Again, virtually nobody home. Even the R.A. was out. As he walked down the hall, Paul saw Frank, who never went out; Sara who had already stumbled back and passed out; and Sara's roommate who was making sure Sara didn't puke on her bed. Also present on the floor was Amy, a friend of Paul's. Paul was rather surprised to find her door open. Usually she'd be out partying 'til late. But then again, usually Paul would be out partying with her. Paul knocked on her door.

"Hey, Amy," he said.

"Hey, Paul, what're you doing here?"

"Nothing much, just avoiding some homework. How about you? I thought you were going to that Sig Ep party tonight."

"I was. I mean, I did. Sara, Jen, and I, we all went. We just had to leave early."

"I saw Sara, she looked really messed up."

"Yeah, well, you know how she gets. She's at a party fifteen minutes and she's already had four drinks. Fifteen minutes later, it's nap time."

"Good thing you brought her back, those frats can be shady places."

"Yeah, tell me about it. I heard about this one girl who passed out in one of the rooms. She woke up and some guy was groping her while she was asleep."

"That's awful."

"I know. She like, needed therapy or something after, it was really sad."

"Jesus…"

"Yeah. Anyway," she said, switching to a lighter, less depressing note. "What are you doing here? Isn't there some dance floor you could be tearing up, some keg you could be draining, some girl you could be trying to sleep with?"

"Oh, Amy. I'm sure there are endless dance floors and endless kegs that need tearing and tapping, but what woman could possible compare to you?" Paul and Amy played this game. They were both big flirts.

"Paul, you always know just what to say."

"You beauty makes it impossible to say anything else," Paul said, really hamming it up.

"Aw, you're the sweetest. Come here and give me a hug."

In all the times before, the hugs between Paul and Amy had been light, and soft, and warm, and caring. And they had been loving in that way that only true friendships can ever be. They had been all this and more, but above all, they had always been platonic. There had never been the slightest spark of romantic or sexual chemistry present in these hugs.

Maybe this was one hug too many.

Maybe tonight was the wrong night for flirting.

Maybe their judgments were a little bit off.

Maybe a lot of things, but the bottom line is that when Paul and Amy hugged this time, there was electricity in it. There was chemistry in it. There was, for lack of a better word, potential in that hug. Amy felt it. And Paul felt it. And neither wanted to let go.

With their arms still wrapped around each other, Amy and Paul looked into each other's eyes, each other's hearts, the very essence of each other's being. And they kissed. Light and soft, warm and caring, their lips met. They kissed once, twice, and a third time. On that third meeting of lips, their mouths parted and their tongues intertwined. Paul massaged Amy's tongue with his, while she massaged his with hers. When they parted this time, Amy leaned to Paul's ear and said in a whisper,

"Lock the door." It was the sexiest thing Paul had ever heard. He could do nothing but obey. He did as he had been instructed.

But now, parted from each other's arms, realities began to sink in, and consequences began to be weighed. Paul looked across the room at Amy from the now-locked door. He no longer saw just the friend he loved, but the woman he desired. And he didn't know how to reconcile the two.

"Amy…" he began, but was soon cut off.

"Shh, Paul. Don't worry."

"I just don't want to ruin our friendship."

"You know, I think you're the first guy who's ever actually meant that." To Paul's confused look, Amy added, "Listen, Paul. This doesn't need to be a big deal. I'm probably the first girl to ever really mean this, but I don't want anything from you. All I'm looking for is a good time. Now, we're friends Paul, and I love you. We don't have to do this if it's going to be, whoa!."

Before those last words were even out of her mouth, Paul practically bounded across the room and gathered Amy up in his arms, planting a kiss on her lips.

"Not at all," he said. "I was just making sure."

"Such a gentleman. Now kiss me again, I love the taste of your lips."

Again, Paul did as he was told, smothering Amy's mouth with his. Tongues once more battled and caressed each other. Hands began to move, one of Paul's traveling downward from Amy's waist to cup her firm, tight ass. Amy, meanwhile, began to run her fingers through Paul's hair as they continued to kiss firmly and passionately. Mouths still connected, arms still around each other, Paul moved Amy to her bed, laying her down gently.

Paul took a moment then to look at Amy in this new light. He saw her now as any other woman, as a sexual creature. He admired the way her tight jeans hugged her long slender legs. He adored the curves of her hips and the slight swell of her breasts as she lay on her back, arched ever so slightly towards him. Her sleek neck, her beautiful face and glorious hair. Now that he looked at her with new eyes, she was the most beautiful woman he knew.

"What are you looking at?" she asked.

"You. You're beautiful." There was no hint of humor in his voice this time. No flirting, just an honest opinion. Amy was without words. So she grabbed Paul by the front of his shirt and pulled him to her. They kissed again, and again, and again. Paul's hands began to travel all over Amy's body. They ran along her hips and waist, up and down her legs, all the while their lips remained parted together, their tongues exploring each other's mouths.

Paul sat up straight, his legs on either side of Amy's slender frame. Amy reached her hands up under his shirt, and helped him remove it. While he pulled it over his head, she ran her hands over his chest and stomach, both toned from regular workouts. Her fingers traced circles around his nipples and across his abs. She played with his erect nipples making Paul sigh in pleasure.

Things continued like this for some time, until Paul grabbed the bottom of Amy's shirt and pulled it upwards. Amy arched her back, allowing him to fully remove her shirt, as well as allowing him an excellent view of her outthrust breasts. Paul leant down to kiss Amy's lips again, before bringing his lips to her neck, kissing and sucking lightly there. Amy moaned softly as Paul's lips continued their inexorable path downwards from her neck. The saliva of his kiss covered her neck and collarbone by the time he reached her lace-covered mounds. A light green 34C bra was all that stood between Paul and Amy's luscious globes. Paul traced his tongue around the outline of the bra, driving Amy crazy as he teased the tops of her boobs. His hands, which had until now been caressing the bare flesh of her midsection and sides, moved upwards and around behind Amy, her back arched once more.

With a skill and dexterity that did him credit, Paul unclasped Amy's bra and slowly removed it, revealing inch-by-inch the delicious flesh beneath. What greeted him was a pair of the most perfect breasts he had ever seen. Full, luscious, round, and without the slightest hint of sag, Amy's breasts were a delight and a treat to Paul. He started to devour them eagerly. His mouth traced kisses all over her left breast while his hand kneaded the tit-flesh of her right. His traveling lips eventually found her nipple. He teased at it with the very end of his tongue before closing his mouth around it completely.

Paul sucked at Amy's nipple while she ran her fingers through his tousled hair, her eyes closed in pleasure. Then, still sucking, Paul flicked his tongue across her nipple. Slowly at first, then faster and faster. Sighs began escaping Amy's lips as Paul's tongue virtually vibrated against her nipple. Between that and his hand still massaging her other breast, Amy was being driven wild. Paul could feel her body writhe beneath him, her hips moving towards him.

Paul switched breasts and delivered similar treatment to Amy's right boob, and was treated to similar moans of lust and appreciation from Amy.

Paul eventually left Amy's tits to travel southward. Amy was rather disappointed as she had been nearing orgasm, simply from Paul's attention to her sensitive nipples and tits. However, she was not to be disappointed long, as Paul's roving hands quickly found the button and zipper to her jeans. Amy wiggled her hips as Paul drew her pants down and off, leaving her clad only in a pair of skimpy light green panties that left nothing to the imagination.

After discarding her pants, Paul began to trail kisses up Amy's legs. He traveled from her toes to her ankles, her calves and thighs; leaving kisses all along her shapely, slender, smooth and silky legs. Up and down. First one leg, then the other. Always avoiding that panties-clad area in the most teasing of ways. On one of these passes up and down Amy's legs, Paul traveled up the inside of Amy's legs, and stopped at the top. He could practically feel the heat coming from her lovebox. Her kissed her pussy through her panties, his lips teasing her lips. He started to rub her as he watched her face contort in pleasure.

After a time, Paul could tell Amy needed more, so he grabbed the tops of her panties and pulled down, quickly leaving her completely naked. Paul wasted no time as he dove, face first as it were, into her lovely, almost completely shaven cunt. Her kissed her open pussy lips, sucking on them softly. His tongue snaked out to lick the outsides of her pussy, but never entered her. He licked up and down with his tongue, he sucked and kissed with his lips. Amy began to moan audibly now.

Paul's hand massaged its way up her leg to her pussy, which glistened now with a combination of Paul's saliva and Amy's own juices. Paul rubbed her pussy, softly at first, but gaining in strength until his fingers began to enter Amy. Deciding to go for broke, Paul quickly and forcefully drove one of his fingers up into Amy, making it disappear completely. Amy gasped loudly at the sudden intrusion, and then moaned her pleasure, assuring Paul he'd made the right call. Her pussy was tight around his finger, but not overly so as he began to jiggle his finger around her insides, forces even more sounds of delight from Amy's mouth.

With his finger still buried inside Amy, Paul leaned his head in and began to lick her pussy. The combined sensations of finger and tongue were enough to push Amy closer and closer to the breaking point. When his probing tongue found her clit, it was all over for Amy. Paul flicked it lightly with his tongue, much as he had done with her nipple. Then he clamped his lips tight on her clit and sucked firmly. Once again, Paul was rewarded with sounds of passion and pleasure from Amy's mouth. Sensing from her writhing body and pulsing cunt that Amy was on the verge of an orgasm, Paul slipped into high gear.

He began thrusting his finger in and out while his mouth remained attached to her clit. One finger became two moving in and out of her pussy as Paul's hand became a blur. With his lips and tongue applying constant pressure to Amy's clit, and two fingers plunging in and out of her cunt, Paul didn't think Amy couldn't hold out long. And he was right.

Her moans became incoherent and just sort of started to rise. They started low, in the back of her throat, and then grew in volume and pitch. Paul was glad there was practically nobody on the floor, or else even with the sound-blocking concrete walls, Amy's screams and cries would have been heard. Then, suddenly, her orgasmic moans stopped and her body arched and tensed, frozen in place. Paul stopped his attentions on her clit and pussy. For a moment all time seemed to stand still. Then, at the end of the moment, came the most contented and pleasured sound Paul had ever heard escape a woman's mouth.

Paul removed his mouth from her clit and his fingers from her pussy. His tongue began lapping away, trying to drink up what had to be the sweetest pussy juice in the history of man. The sensation produced several post-orgasmic ripples of pleasure through Amy as her body slowly relaxed and eased back towards the bed. When her spiral was complete, and Paul had cleaned all he could, Amy grabbed his shoulders and pulled him towards her. He lay on his side, on the bed next to her, still clad in his pants. He had a very contented look on his face. Very proud of himself, as most men who reach this point are.

Amy looked deep into his eyes, as he looked deep into hers, and said,

"Don't think I'm through with you yet," as she pushed him down against the bed and climbed on top.

"It's my turn, now."

With a skill and dexterity that did her credit, Amy had Paul's belt unbuckled and his pants unbuttoned and off his legs before Paul even knew what was happening. In the blink of an eye, he was left clad only in his boxers. Amy sat astride his legs, much like Paul had hers what seemed like only minutes before. Amy caressed Paul's chest and shoulders, hips and stomach, running her hands along all of his trim frame.

Her roving hands eventually found his cock, which had been painfully erect since he and Amy first kissed. Over his boxers, she ran her hands along its length. She squeezed it through the thin fabric, feeling it pulse in her hands. Feeling the shaft radiate warmth. Her hand fished in through the opening in the front of his shorts and took firm hold of his rigid member. Paul groaned. For a while, Amy did nothing, just squeeze his cock and let him feel the smooth softness of her hand against his own flesh.

Her hand invisible inside his boxers, Amy began to jack Paul's cock up and down, slowly. Agonizingly slowly. As she continued this, Paul was unable to tell which he'd die from first; the pleasure or the torture. So he just moaned more and more, closed his eyes, and rolled his head back.

Amy took this moment to relieve Paul of his boxer shorts, and in one quick movement had them down his legs and off his body. Paul lay there, naked, as Amy got her first glimpse of his stiff six-and-a-half-inch pole. As she stared, her eyes semi-glazed, she unconsciously started licking her lips. She grabbed his cock again in her hand, and resumed stroking it up and down. As she did, she leaned her mouth in to kiss the head of his prick. Paul mumbled something incoherent when her mouth touched his rod.

Still jacking his base, Amy began to slowly slide her mouth down and over Paul's cock. With every centimeter that disappeared into Amy's mouth, Paul groaned more and more. Amy removed her hand, and still her mouth continued to sink. Slowly, but surely, she was taking Paul entirely into her mouth. Her head dropped lower and lower into his lap. His cock disappeared more and more into her mouth. Paul felt the head hit the back of her throat, and continue to slide deeper and deeper. No doubt Amy was a pro at this. His cock went further and further into her mouth and throat until at long last, Paul had bottomed out in her mouth, and Amy had buried her nose in Paul's pubic hair.

They stayed like that for a moment, Paul buried length-deep in Amy's throat, until she pulled back quickly, almost coming all the way off his cock. Feeling his dick slide so fast out of Amy's throat was like nothing else he'd ever experienced. He gasped and held his breath at the sensation. Amy stopped with just the head in her mouth and held Paul there for a moment before sinking back down again, this time more quickly. Amy repeated this several times, up and down, up and down on his cock, practically fucking her face with his prick.

On one down stroke, Amy stopped halfway and began to swirl her tongue around Paul's shaft. And as if he needed any more sensations, her hand reached up to cup and fondle his balls. Amy's mouth resumed its up and down motions, this time with her tongue working Paul's cock too, as her hand kept fondling his aching-for-release testicles. All of these sensations were enough to push Paul over the edge, and he knew that soon they would. Somehow, between the feelings of Amy's mouth plunging up and down on his shaft, her tongue licking it's way around his entire cock, and her hand massaging his balls, Paul managed to say,

"I'm about to come." Or at least, that's what he meant to say. It came out more like,

"Mmmm, gonna…come….ahhh"

As soon as those…words…left his mouth, Amy pulled completely off his cock, mouth and tongue, and let go of his balls.

"Not yet," she said. "I still have to feel this inside me." And with that, she slid up his body, dragging her wonderful tits along his legs and over his diamond-hard cock until she had her pussy perched just above his crotch. She grabbed it with one had and started to guide it to her pussy when Paul stopped her.